


true love is a system

by hakanaii



Series: Pop Star AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8427817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakanaii/pseuds/hakanaii
Summary: Keith takes the tension from the day out of Shiro with a good ol’ fashion massage.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Couple notes: Shiro has developed PTSD, I did minor research about it. If my portrayal is incorrect please inform me, I will adjust. Also, the title for the fic is taken from the song These are the times by Dru Hill.

* * *

 

Keith was already in bed, book in hands and glasses slipping down his nose, when Shiro gets home. He hears the turn of the lock and the slam of the door, but does not greet his boyfriend at the door. It’s 23:54, whatever has kept Shiro so late at the studio must have been trying; so Keith waits for him to arrive at his own pace. Even their German Shepherd, Kuro, stays resting in his bed in the corner of their room, patiently waiting. 

Socked feet drag against the floor as Keith flips a page. If Shiro’s shuffling towards them he must be absolutely exhausted. He has expressed many times over how much he detests when someone doesn’t pick up their feet as it’s a sure sign of laziness. Without fail, he’d scold Keith as well when he’d catch him, saying, “You used to dance, where’s your posture?”. But sometimes Shiro did it too, and it was never a good sign when he did; he didn’t like breaking his own rules, it stunted progress. 

When the door pushes open, Keith looks up. If the shuffling was not enough proof to him to determine how exhausted his partner was it was definitely present all over his body. From his slumped shoulders to the red flush on his cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. 

“Shiro,” he calls, putting his book on the nightstand. But Shiro wouldn’t look at him. Just away, to this spot on the floor as he shrugs off his jacket onto the floor. Embarrassment? Anger?  _ Shame?  _ What the hell happened today?

“Shiro…” he tries again, crawling his way to the end of the bed, reaching towards him. Keith refuses for there to be a gap at this moment. 

There were too many days where Shiro felt far away as he got lost in memories, fears, and guilt. His therapist had assured Keith that the best way to help his partner is to be present, it’d help Shiro stay grounded. 

Regardless, he still felt far every time he kept silent about his thoughts, feelings he's expressed he doesn’t want to burden Keith with. And while he may not share in the grief the way Matt shares the grief with Shiro, the crash was a turning point in his life too. It changed everything he knew about the music industry, himself, Shiro, _ life. _ More than Shiro ever knew, did it feel good to have someone in his life that understood this so intimately. 

But Shiro needed time. Lots of time, or so his therapist informed Keith over again, to learn to feel comfortable in his skin, with his prosthetic, with Keith as more than just his back up dancer. If Keith had his way, he’d never leave Shiro’s side, make this as easy as possible for him to deal with but again, his therapist told Keith that wouldn’t help either. (“Smothering him won’t help him cope with himself”). 

So he waits. Right now, though, Shiro needs him even as his boyfriend takes a step back. 

“Takashi,” Keith’s voice is softer, fingers stretching out as far as they can reach. The sound of his given name get his attention as Shiro’s head snaps towards him, beautiful grey eyes full to the brim with pain and shame. “Will you come to bed?” 

Shiro doesn’t move right away, his eyes remain locked on Keith and the ruffled sheets of their king sized bed. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. 

Keith knows this routine, has learned through much trial and error that patience is a virtue as Shiro contemplates his options. Bed or Sofa? Keith or no Keith? When he does move, feet picking up off the ground this time, he stretches his fingers forward. Linking them with Keith’s outstretched ones, he brings them to his lips where he touches gentles kisses to the pads of his boyfriend’s fingers before letting them guide him face first into the mattress. 

“Did that feel good?” Keith giggles, his body still bouncing from the way Shiro hit the mattress. He nods, making a pleasant groaning sound into the sheets. “How about a massage?” 

With a muffled yes, Keith swings his legs over his partner's waist, hands resting gently on his fleshy hips. Keith really likes giving Shiro massages, it helps them both let out some much needed aggression. He puts all his strength into them as Shiro lets the knots slide from his muscles like butter on a hot frying pan. 

The best part is that Keith works slowly. Thumbs circles into the soft flesh around the bone, carefully, making sure to work every bit of muscle. Fingers push up the fabric on Shiro’s tight, black t-shirt making a path of exposed skin for him to knead into next and trail down, settling on spot in his lower back and pushing deep when he feels a particularly tense spot. Shiro moans in appreciation as everything along his lower back is sore from sitting in that horrible chair all day. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Much better.” Keith can hear the smile in his boyfriend’s voice when he turns his head to the side. A warm flush across his nose, amplifying the scar Keith has grown to love. He's exceptionally fond of running the pad of his index finger across before kissing the ends of the scar, as they cuddle. 

“So what happened today?” Shiro jolts at his words, if only for a second before relaxing back under the kneading fingers. 

“I was recording with Lance. We got into a fight.”

“Figures,” Keith snorts, at least it didn’t have anything to do with the crash. “About what?”   
  
“Have you talked to either him or Katie about his new album, by chance?” 

“No,” Keith hesitates, the heel of his hand along with his thumbs working more gently. “Why?” 

Shiro sighs. “There are a couple songs...about you…on the album.”

“What?” Keith’s hands stop entirely. How many years has it been now since they fought? Five? They were friends now, very good friends. Lance couldn’t possibly still be harbouring feelings left over, could he? Shiro bucks his hips up, a signal to continue knowing they’ll both need the distraction. “And you agreed to produce it?” 

“Don’t have a choice. I’m his producer for the next three albums under his contract. I breach it, I can be sued. Anyways, so what happened was I’m sitting there behind the glass and -” 

“But it’s a conflict of interest, you have to get out of it!” 

Shiro lifts his head from the pillow and locks eyes with Keith’s, hands moving further up Shiro’s back but slowly. It almost frightens Keith how serious he looks with his narrowed gaze. “Keith, is there something you’re not telling me?” 

“That’s not it! I-I just think it’d be uncomfortable for you to listen to whatever it is he has to say...about me.” 

“...I was there, Keith,” Shiro sighs with resign, dropping his head back onto the pillow. “I remember how intimate you two were.” 

“Shiro, I-” 

“It helps his album that I know how he wants the song to feel. How he felt then, and how it feels to be with you now.” Keith was not expecting to hear a smile, nor see it, but there Shiro is, with a small grin on his lips. “We did fifteen takes on the same five bars. He just...he wasn’t capturing the feeling in his voice right. He wasn’t smug enough for this break up song.” 

“Lance...not enough of a little shit? What?” 

Shiro laughs, heartily. “So I told him to  _ really _ give it to you. Act as if you were in the room and he’d finally get to say all those things he's wanted to say since then.” Suddenly, his voice gets quieter. “I was long since frustrated by the time we came to that fifteenth take and maybe the song had been getting to me (he was talking about watching your new relationship fail) so after that last botched attempt I snapped at him.”

“What did you say?” His heart in his throat, pounding against the thin walls of his trachea making it hard to breathe, but he kept pushing out those knots in his lover’s back. 

“...that maybe I wasn’t surprised why you weren’t interested in him and he shouldn’t act so smug about us.” 

“Shiro…”

“I felt so bad the moment it came out of my mouth. I even tried to apologize but he just threw it back in my face. Told me how he could have come close had it not been for The Crash.”

That’s not true. Not even remotely true and Lance knew that, so why bother thinking it? 

He can’t fathom how the The Crash would’ve changed this life for the better. Had he and Lance made it onto that plane and they began the tour, it would’ve been horribly awkward because no matter the scenario he would’ve told Lance no. 

Lance knew their relationship was just sex and nothing more. He must of known subconsciously their relationship was a place holder, an outlet for both of them to deal with their sexual frustration. It was in Lance’s pursuit of a romantic relationship that changed what they were; had him moving out of their apartment by the end of the week and staying with his sister, Keith learned later. 

Or maybe he would’ve settled. Had Lance not slept in, had they not been rushing to get to the airport that day, had Lance held his tongue just a little bit longer. Then maybe. It would’ve been so easy to love Lance, they were such good friends, how could he not love him? But he was  _ in  _ love with someone else. 

Keith felt Shiro stir beneath him, twisting and bucking his hips until his boyfriend fell onto the bunched up sheets beside him. He finds Keith’s hand and squeezes it tight with his prosthetic, pulling it close to his chest. 

“So, it got me thinking,” Shiro’s words are careful and smooth. “Maybe he's right. Maybe it was my fault.”

His face must have twisted into something horrifying as Keith saw the sympathy reflected in Shiro’s eyes. The way he brought his boyfriend’s lithe fingers from his chest to his lips, kissing them slowly yet again before leaning across and touches his lips to Keith’s. They were warm and comforting like a blanket. 

“I couldn’t shake it the whole car ride here. Before I came up I talk myself down from a near panic attack.” 

Keith tensed from his jaw to his shoulders. “No, Shiro, it’s not. If anything it’s-”

Shiro pecked his boyfriend’s lips again, silencing him the best way he could think of. “It’s not your fault either. It’s not even Lance’s. When I walked into our apartment, and I saw you laying there I realized that. And do you know what else I realized?”

“How much you love me?” Shiro smirked at Keith’s words and press a kiss to his nose this time. 

“More than I have loved anyone and anything else.” 

“You’re so cheesy sometimes.” 

“But you love it.” 

“Never said I didn’t.” Keith he presses a gentle, loving kiss to Shiro’s lips, then his nose, then to the elongated scar running across the bridge. Kissing both ends of the mark never ceased to make Shiro smile more. 

“As much as I’d like this to continue,” Shiro says, his other hand sneaking up and under Keith to pull him in closer by the waist. “I have to deal with Lance again tomorrow and I’d prefer to do that with ten hours of sleep in me.” 

Reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp, Keith curls up into Shiro’s warm,solid and familiar embrace. Maybe it is easy to love Lance and all his energetic charm but it was rewarding to love Shiro. Shiro who compromised and listened, who struggled with himself but never bat a lash at telling his boyfriend how amazing he is, who grew more confident every day with Keith holding his right hand. Shiro who took him out for romantic dinners and made love to him over and over between these sheets. 

And Keith could not ask for a truer love as it was a system, one they didn’t need to rush at all. 


End file.
